Rituals Of Love
by AngelKayohisura
Summary: Soul struggles to express his emotions, but Maka always comes first.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: It's been over a year, sadly. Several things have happened-namely, more computer problems than should be permissible in a year (more than one cracked screen, incompetent repairmen, and never-ending boot up screens, anyone?). But, finally, I'm back (yay!). **** I've had this story spinning around in my head for a while now, and I'm glad I finally had the chance to sit down and write it. Special thanks to be my beta A-chan, and a shout out to spartakiade because seeing a comment from her motivated me to stop revising and just start posting. Also, thank you to everyone who reviewed my other stories.**

**Story:** Rituals Of Love  
><strong>Chapter:<strong> One  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I don't own Soul Eater in the slightest, and I write this for fun and not for profit.  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Soul struggles to express his emotions, but Maka always comes first.

Joints creaked and bones popped as Soul spread his arms in a revitalizing morning stretch. His half-bared reflection stared back at him from the full-length mirror whilst dry skin rasped under blunt fingernails.

The years of fighting had taken their toll. Scars littered otherwise smooth skin—with the most prominent splitting his torso from left shoulder to right hip—and a general stiffness crept into his limbs every night. There were more lingering signs of the abuse he had put his body through, but such effects hardly ever crossed his mind. His life was too busy to dwell on such inconsequential things, and his demeanor had never changed from not giving a damn. It was the cool thing to do, after all. But despite the internal damages and general wear and tear, Soul knew he was lucky to still be fit as a fiddle. He had lost none of his muscle in his middle age, and, if he had gained a touch of fat, it was far less than many of his compatriots. Washboard abs, bulging biceps, and a full head of hair—yes, Soul was indeed still blessed.

Shrieks suddenly rent the still morning air, and a soft hiss of annoyance escaped his lips.

Four long strides carried him out of the bedroom and into the hallway. Another six brought him to the second bedroom in the hall. Two pairs of red eyes widened almost comically upon seeing the scowl directed toward them.

Both children had frozen, as if the lack of movement would cause Soul to move on and search for the cause of the ruckus elsewhere, but they had no such luck.

"It's a little early for such roughhousing, isn't it?" Soul drawled in the way they knew heralded their doom.

"Or a little late if you think about it. It's all a matter of perspective. Did you know that according to this new theory published last week, time—" The chattering child clammed up upon seeing Soul's one raised eyebrow and pursed lips. "Or it's a little early, you know, by the same argument Dad."

"That's what I thought. Get ready for school, and do it without destroying your rooms, or I'll beat both of you."

"But what if it's only one of us that—"

"**Both** of you."

At that, both children fell silent and dutifully clambered out of bed.

Disaster stemmed, Soul doubled back to the bedroom he had ignored earlier, and knocked. Girls at her age were so fussy, and, even though no locked doors were allowed in the house, they had at least agreed upon the compromise of knocking before entering.

Soul flicked the light on and yanked the covers off his eldest knowing that without a solid kick in the rear, the child would never wake. She was completely the opposite of her mother and all too much like her father in that respect.

Green eyes glared halfheartedly from behind cracked lids, but Soul had long since become immune to sixteen year old death threats at six a.m. Her mother had it down to an art at twelve, and he himself at thirteen after all.

"Up," he admonished sternly.

First round of duties complete, it was a short walk in search of the biggest cup of coffee he could muster in five minutes. But despite his urgent craving of a hot, caffeinated beverage slathered with sugar, Soul couldn't help but pause at the threshold of the kitchen.

Maka was already hard at work, waffles and bacon standing ready to combat an army of jabbing elbows and shoving knees. Delicious breakfast smells wafted throughout the room, inducing more than one loud protest from his stomach, and, Shinigami-sama bless the woman, she had an extra-large mug full of steaming coffee waiting for him.

"Good morning beautiful," Soul murmured into her ear as his arms slipped around her waist from behind.

The smile she flashed him was full of sunlight and the kiss full of nectar.

"Good morning!" Maka chirped.

Soul planted another kiss onto the nape of her neck and gave her hips another squeeze, per their morning routine, before he released her in favor of the coffee.

Mornings were always chaotic on the surface, but the Albarn-Evans household truly had it down to a science. It was a perfectly orchestrated dance of restrained mayhem, and even their rituals of love were built into the fabric.

**A/N: ****So a note about this story. It was originally going to be a one-shot, but I decided to break it up into a few chapters so that I could post it faster. Also, because while I love long one-shots, I figured a one-shot that was 20,000 words might be off-putting for some people. Not that I'm promising this will be 20,000 words, it's just that my word counts tend to explode if I don't watch myself. Therefore, it should hopefully only be about six more chapters, not counting this introduction. And I'm actually annoyed that this first chapter is so short, but I console myself with the fact that it is only the first chapter.**

**Lastly, I have several more things in the works, although I won't promise when I'll deem them done and post them. There will be three more parts to what I'm calling the "Mealtime" series, pretty much because of the reviews for "I Like My Breakfast Moaning." More on those when I post that second installment. Although, each will be a oneshot and complete upon posting. Please review, and thank you everyone who has reviewed! I loved the reviews I received before. They were wonderful, and, again, pretty much inspired me to give a sequel to "I Like My Breakfast Moaning".**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Another short chapter. But the next one should be much longer.**

**Story:** Rituals Of Love  
><strong>Chapter:<strong> Two  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I don't own Soul Eater in the slightest, and I write this for fun and not for profit.  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Summary: <strong>Soul struggles to express his emotions, but Maka always comes first.

Soul Eater Evans leaned over their only porcelain goddess and willed himself to vomit.

_Please, Shinigami-sama, even a little bit._

With no vomit miraculously forthcoming, he was clearly reduced to drastic measures. Drastic measures specifically being sticking a finger, then his toothbrush when his finger failed, down his throat.

He was casting about for a longer object when harsh pounding startled him into jabbing the end of said toothbrush painfully into the inner lining of his esophagus, and while it did cause him to gag, cough, and splutter, still nothing would come up.

"Hurry _UP_, Soul, or I'll Maka Chop right through this door!" She put so much strength into that yell that her jewelry tinkled.

_Please, Shinigami-sama, I won't skip any more classes this YEAR, if you just do me this one thing. Forget the vomiting, give me the plague. Give me cancer. Give me anything except an uncontrollable bout of the black blood, anything that will let me stay at home until this is all over. It just has to look real enough to get by Maka._

It was unreasonable to bargain skipping with no skipping, but it was his second-best card.

"Just a minute," he rasped out. Due to the spearing he'd given himself with the toothbrush, the hoarseness wasn't faked. Perhaps swallowing his cufflinks would be enough to give him heavy metal poisoning in under an hour.

_I'll make good grades. A's and B's._

There went his ace—if Shinigami-sama didn't respond, he was just going to have to face the music.

Shuffling around as slowly as possible to draw it out as long as he could, Soul willed and prayed and begged for a sickness to save him. But with nothing forthcoming, he eventually had to leave the sanctuary of the bathroom.

An emerald gaze immediately accosted him as soon as he cracked open the door.

"If you don't move it, Soul, we're going to be late!"

Soul shoved past her and slouched the whole way to the door. He wished they would just not go altogether.

"And straighten your tie!"

If he was lucky, maybe she would trip in those ridiculous heels and break an ankle.

ooOoo

Twenty minutes later saw them outside the yearly Autumn Ball at DWMA in full formal dress.

Maka swept toward the entrance immediately, homing in on Tsubaki, Liz, and Patty so quickly it was as if she were a cow caught in a tractor beam. A scowl twisted Soul's lips as he slunk towards them at a much slower pace. Futilely, he tried to distract himself from thoughts of the impending disaster with puzzling out how exactly Maka had been able to ride the back of his motorcycle in an evening gown and come out looking perfectly coiffed. Unfortunately, since Maka was the source of his current predicament, thinking of her wasn't much of a distraction.

Exactly how had he gotten himself into this mess?

A broad hand suddenly slapped him on the back, forcing the wind out of his lungs in a loud whoosh, but before he could protest Black Star had already roped him into a one-armed hug. Said ninja grinned mischievously with squinted eyes as he took in the disgruntled face of his best friend.

"Fuck man, we all wondered when you would make a move! So have you guys done it yet?"

Soul swore under his breath before hissing, "Shut UP, Black Star. Everyone doesn't need to hear you run your big mouth!"

"Lighten up! _Yahoo!_ The whole school knows, and we're behind you one hundred percent! Not that it matters. As long as I, the great BLACK STAR, give my godly stamp of approval, the opinions of mortal folk are irrelevant. Not that everyone actually approves. I heard Spirit—"

Soul wished the ground would swallow him whole. He was never going to live this down. His entire cool reputation was shot to hell, and damn if he was going to score anytime soon if everyone thought he and Maka were an item.

He had to hold back a groan at that entirely nauseating thought.

"—Or that other guy. Can you believe he was going to give Maka roses? Like she likes that kind of thing," Black Star sniggered and continued to prattle on, completely oblivious to Soul's black mood. "But if you had told me you were going to do it beforehand, I could have put a bet down and won the jackpot! Instead, Liz took everythi—"

This whole thing had been a mistake, a huge accident. If he had known at the time that his actions would be misconstrued as an invitation for a date, he would have cut off his tongue right then and there. Because he so didn't need this shit.

Rewind exactly three days, four hours, two minutes, and twenty seven seconds.


	3. Chapter 3

**Story:** Rituals Of Love  
><strong>Chapter:<strong> Three  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I don't own Soul Eater in the slightest, and I write this for fun and not for profit.  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T

**Summary: **Soul struggles to express his emotions, but Maka always comes first.

This whole thing had been a mistake, a huge accident. If he had known at the time that his actions would be misconstrued as an invitation for a date, he would have cut off his tongue right then and there. Because he so didn't need this shit.

Rewind exactly three days, four hours, two minutes, and twenty seven seconds.

ooOoo

_Slam_.

Soul jolted into wakefulness and wondered if Maka had cracked the frame. Again.

_Stomp stomp stomp._

He pushed the heel of his palms into his eyes and deliberated if he had miscounted the number of days since her last period. There were supposed to be six days of sanity left.

A loud clatter and rattle sounded from the kitchen, and Soul flopped back down onto the couch. He didn't want any part of—

"SOUL! You didn't go to the grocery store, did you?!"

"Blearghmm," he grunted.

Maka stormed out of the kitchen and dropped a soup pot on his face.

"Fuck! Maka!"

"You were supposed to buy food!"

"I fell asleep."

"Ohhh, so we should just starve because you couldn't get your lazy ass five blocks to the store," she hissed with accusing eyes.

"You could have got some during your little shopping trip," Soul grumbled as he stood and stretched, joints popping in protest.

"Why would I when you were supposed to do it on your way home!"

"Shut up already, I'm going!"

He yanked on his jacket and fumbled for his keys and wallet, avoiding the daggers Maka was shooting his way.

"Don't bother!" Maka hissed, flouncing to her room where she, predictably, slammed the door.

Soul stared after her in disbelief, and left. Clearly something was wrong, because this was just ridiculous.

ooOoo

Later, he knocked on her door softly and called gently, "Maka, open up."

"Go away!"

"I have Chinese food."

Silence greeted his peace offering.

"With egg rolls."

A sliver of green peeked out from behind the wood. He waggled the bag in front of her, but jerked it out of her grasp when she reached for it.

"Let me in."

Maka narrowed her eyes again and frowned but she finally opened the door wide enough to let him in.

They sat on her bed and ate for a few minutes in silence. When Soul judged her mouth to be full and her belly stuffed with at least four egg rolls, he dared to speak.

"I meant it, Maka. Let me in."

Maka glanced up at him startled, and slowed in inhaling her lo mein.

"It's nothing really. Just something stupid."

Soul swiped her last egg roll and held it up with his chopsticks.

The unspoken threat was clear, but Maka would no longer meet his gaze much less say anything.

Soul sighed internally, but decided to let it go. Girl problems were more, well, Tsubaki's and the rest of the girls' department. His role was more along the lines of kicking ass and taking names.

He placed the egg roll back on her plate and slurped down his soup.

Maka couldn't hold her silence any longer after he returned her egg roll. Soul was being so considerate and just—

"I got rejected. It was stupid of me to ask."

Soul stared at her mid-slurp. Oh, they were going to talk after all. Okay, he could do this.

"For the extra-curricular in South America? They actually had other applicants?"

Maka's face screwed up in what might have been confusion or a really gross bite of Chinese.

"No! To the Autumn formal!"

Soul quickly shoved more food in his mouth to buy more time. She asked someone out? Who? And what the hell was he supposed to do now? Despite his inhalation of food, Maka was clearly waiting for some kind response.

"You could always…uh, go with me?" They're the first words out of his mouth, and he's mostly just happy that they make sense.

Maka brightened a little, and Soul felt warm fuzzies at the little spark in her green eyes. Yes, he had said the right thing! Watching all those hated chick flicks with Maka had paid off.

"You…aren't going with that girl?"

"No." Soul frowned at the memory of the sixth girl who asked him to the ball. "The only girl I would take to one of these things is you."

Maka choking on her last egg roll effectively ended that conversation, but Soul thought it was good that it had ended while he was ahead.

ooOoo

Soul wondered if he the high pitched squealing coming from the corner of the classroom should worry him. Tipping his chair back and folding his arms behind his head, he decided that a nap would be a better use of his time than trying to figure out what the gal pals were so excited over.

If he had stayed awake, he might have heard curious snippets of their conversation or noticed the way one or more would occasionally turn and peer at him and at the other boys.

ooOoo

Maka stomped on Liz's foot, hissing, "Stop _staring_!"

Liz stopped staring, but Maka liked neither the mischievous smirk nor the predatory glint in her eyes. And she especially didn't like that she was the object of Liz's attention.

"It's not a date."

Liz's smirk only deepened.

"I didn't think Soul would ask you out directly," Tsubaki chimed in softly, attempting to both defuse the tension and address the situation. "But I think…He's definitely trying to express his feelings for you."

Maka blushed, and tried to not let her voice come out in a squeak. "And I'm telling you, I don't think it's like that."

"Feh," Liz snorted. "Since when has shark-boy ever asked you anywhere?"

"Never!"

"Exactly! He's finally clueing in to how he feels."

"How he feels! How he _feels_!" Maka hissed lowly. "He's never, ever looked at me that way before, so why should he suddenly start now?"

"Because he has all the social grace of the standoffish bad-boy he likes to pretend to be," Liz retorted.

"Soul's always had a great well of feeling for you, Maka," Tsubaki interjected. "You and Black Star are the only ones to coax a lot of emotion out of him." Tsubaki paused, a little unsure if she should continue on. "He…everyone knows how protective he is of you. And anyone who knows you two…" She shrugged helplessly, at a loss for words. "It only makes sense."

In a mocking falsetto, Liz dramatically began to proclaim, "Maka! The only girl I would ever take to a ball is you! Why? Because the only girl I would ever kiss is you! The only girl I would give my heart to is you! The only—"

Patty started giggling madly, and burst into loud song, "Soul and Maka, kissing in a tree—"

Maka slammed a book into her head so hard and fast that she didn't even realize what she had done until Patty laid moaning on the floor clutching the dent in her head. Horrified, she dropped to one knee and inspected the wound.

"Sorry," Maka offered weakly to Patty, avoiding the daggers Liz was shooting her, and letting herself be brushed aside by said sister. "I panicked!"

That didn't save her from a punch to the head, courtesy of Liz, but Patty forgave her without the need for physical retaliation.

ooOoo

Black Star spread the news as fast as he could form the words, and it spread like wildfire in the bone dry forest of the DWMA rumor mill. Forget who was taking who and how many girls were going to end coming in the same dress, because, finally, the renowned pair had coupled off. Bets were paid out and more bets were laid. Had they done it yet? Would they kiss at the Autumn formal? How long would they last? How many times would Spirit faint?

ooOoo

"Tsubaki! I'm going to have a get a different dress!"

"But you loved the dress you bought yesterday…"

"That was before I found out it was going to be my outfit for my very first date with Soul!" Maka peered into the full length mirror, holding the dress up to her body and frowned. "What if he…well…_confesses_? I have to look amazing."

"Confesses?" Tsubaki tilted her head slightly to the side, not comprehending. "But you do look amazing with that dress." She smiled warmly, confident in addressing at least that part of the problem.

"But is it the kind of dress you tell the person you…well, you _know_, in? I have to make it as easy for him as possible."

"Eh?" By now Tsubaki was thoroughly baffled.

"I mean, if it's time for…for the _gloves to come off_, is this the piece of clothing to do it in? Shouldn't it be more dazzling?" Still moping in the mirror, her eyes lingered on her hidden bosom. It should have more cleavage, the dress she had now was too cute.

"EH?!"

Abruptly turning to her, Maka gestured to her chest. "For example, I feel like I need more cleavage now! He's not going to do anything without a little prodding!"

"Pr-prodding?"

"Something to get the juices flowing!"

Tsubaki wavered and collapsed into a seat, one scandalous statement away from swooning.

Maka flopped back onto her bed with an exasperated sigh. "I mean it's Soul. He LOVES huge boobs! And I just can't compete. What if, in that moment, he can't go through with it, because when he's staring at me soulfully in the moonlight, he realizes he can't be with a girl with such a tiny rack! But with the right dress, maybe he'll think, oh, they're bigger than I thought! And be so happy that he does it right then and there!"

"Maka!" Tsubaki finally squeaked out, mortified at everything Maka had just related. "Soul-kun isn't going to jump you in the middle of the Autumn formal! Swaying cleavage or not!"

"J-j-jump me?" Maka whispered, horrified. "You think he might JUMP ME?"

"I said he wasn't going to jump you! Wasn't!" Tsubaki spluttered, more than a little dazed by now. "You were the one who is saying he will!"

"NO!" Maka yelped. "I meant, like—if he tells me he LOVES me. …Or you know," she whispered hesitantly, as speaking the words had somehow made the awe-some thought more real. "At least that he likes me."

Tsubaki tittered nervously, so overwhelmingly relieved to have been so mistaken, and tried to quell her raging blush.

ooOoo

There was punch at the Autumn Formal, but in Soul's opinion its deliciousness didn't make up for the fact that it was non-alcoholic.

Blearily, he stared into the glass, begging the ruby liquid to yield answers for his current predicament. He gave it a solid minute, but with nothing forthcoming he could only settle for downing the rest of the drink. Out of the corner of his eye, Maka and the other girls are gathered in a gaggle—of course—but all he understood was that their sidelong stares don't bode well for him.

Fuck, he knew this was apparently some kind of date, but he didn't want this!

Nervously, he shuffled a bit, nudging Black Star. "This is so lame, let's get out of here."

"No way man! This party can't _start_ if the GREAT BLACK STAR isn't present!"

Black Star spun, jabbing his fingers at all assembled. "Behold, PEONS! YOUR GOD **BLACK STAR** IS HERE AND IT IS TIME TO **DANCE**!" With that wild proclamation, Black Star began to boogey, strutting obscenely into the middle of the dance floor. Furthermore, someone manning the lights apparently found it amusing enough to light a spotlight to follow him.

Soul sighed, tossed his drink away, and decided to hell with it. He was here and dancing was lame, but maybe if he played it cool and did a token whatever with Maka, he could get out of here faster. That in mind, he strode over, fighting his mounting panic with every step, and with his best game face, asked, "Care to dance?"

Maka grabbed his hand—so eagerly that it snapped his tenuous thread of calm—and wasted no time steering them to the very center of the floor. This was a terrible idea, he realized with a sinking feeling of dread, and the thought made him all too-aware of his his itchy collar, rising temperature, and clammy hands. But he also knew it was too late to back out. As Maka began to shake and sway, Soul swallowed down the bile and did his best to pretend that this was nothing more than a friendly dance—after all, they weren't even touching.

The truth bubbled in his throat—he wanted to confess, he wanted to throw up, he wanted to ask Maka if she really thought this was a date—but his hyper-awareness of all the eyes on them served to both racket up the pressure and force the words back down to his gut. He prayed his stoic face hid the mass of nerves roiling in his stomach. His reputation would never recover—he would forever be known as the most insensitive jackass of all time—if Maka started to cry or slapped him or whatever she would do if he told her.

Soul couldn't meet her eyes—he stared over her shoulder, at the floor, at his arms, anywhere that wasn't her face—because it was her reaction he was scared of the most. Did she actually want this to happen? The concept of them?

Worrying over that question made the whole night pass as a dizzying blur of ignoring reality. He knew he tried to do the bare minimum to make it, well, nice enough of an evening for Maka, because he owed her at least that much before he, maybe, crushed her heart. But the endless mantra in his mind of 'This is a misunderstanding. We're just friends. Maka feels the same way. This is a misunderstanding—' left him more sick with every repetition.


End file.
